Page 207 of His To Erase
There’s a low clink of glass behind me—champagne, probably. I don’t turn around. I just keep staring at the clouds and swallowing the weird twist in my gut. The croissant tasted like something I’ve had before. Or maybe that was just my brain playing tricks again.
There was a brief moment this morning when I saw a flash of something. A girl—barefoot on marble, and a voice yelling in a language I didn’t recognize. And then it was gone.
I told myself it was nothing, but I haven’t stopped thinking about it since.
The plane dips slightly, starting its descent and I exhale through my nose, willing my heart to slow. It’s fine. It’s just a weird day, I’ve had worse.
It’s not like I’m locked in some gilded cage or—“Still with me, doll?”
His voice cuts through the hum behind me, and I blink up at him, heart beating hard against my ribs. I force a smile and nod like everything’s fine.
I’m still pissed and he knows it. I found out over breakfast that Frank called the bar to excuse me from work—only to be told I wasn’t scheduled. He laughed it off saying it worked out, that I clearly needed the break.
The fact that he went behind my back and figured out my schedule pisses me off. I know Sarah wouldn’t do that, so I’ll have to have a nice chat with the servers about that. Good thing I work tonight.
I turn back to the window before he can see what’s written all over my face. Because if I don’t, I might say something I can’t take back.
He settles into the seat across from me. “We’ve got a big weekend ahead.”
My stomach knots so hard it feels like it’s trying to fold in on itself.A big weekend?
Funny—I don’t remember agreeing to that, but I don’t argue. Not up here.
So I smile. Or at least something that passes for it. I lean back in my seat and nod like I’m going along with it, even as my nails dig into the cuffs of my sleeves and my mind’s already flipping through options for when we land.
By the time the wheels touch down, my jaw aches from how long I’ve been clenching it.
Frank’s hand brushes my lower back as we exit the plane with the kind of touch that’s supposed to feel safe, or make me feel special. Only it doesn’t.
The ride is quiet as I watch the trees blur past the tinted window. Somewhere along the way, Frank starts talking aboutsomething to do with some meeting tomorrow at the club. His late dinner tonight, then something vague about property acquisitions and a new opportunity in the city.
I nod at all the right times, smiling once or twice, but my head is miles away. Something is trying to claw its way out of me, and the more I ignore it, the more it eats me alive.
“We’ll stop at my place first,” he says casually, like it’s already been decided. “Then I’ll drop you after.”
I blink, turning toward him. “I have work.”
“I know,” he says, smiling just enough to make my pulse skip. “You’ll make it. I’ll be quick.”
By the time we pull into the driveway, the sun is high overhead and I feel like I haven’t slept in days. Frank opens the door for me before the driver even has the chance. He doesn’t say anything, just offers his hand like he’s the hero in some vintage romance. I don’t take it, I’m too tired to pretend.
"You okay?" he asks, watching me a little too closely.
I nod. “I’m just tired.”
His smile is warm and familiar, and it’s the kind that used to work on me. The kind that might’ve worked again—if I hadn’t already seen what it looks like when someone doesn’t pretend to want you.
Frank’s house is just as pristine as the last time, and just as suffocating.
“This won’t take long,” he says, unlocking the front door and guiding me inside like I wasn’t here. “Just a quick meeting in the office. Then I’ll drive you back so you can get ready for work.”
I blink. “You said you’d take me straight home.”
“And I will. In just a minute.” He smiles over his shoulder. “Guest room’s made up if you want to lie down. First door on the right, down the hall.”
Lie down? Right, because this is so casual. So fucking normal.
“Take a nap if you need,” he adds, already turning toward his office. “There’s a phone charger on the nightstand.”
